


Until the Right Time Comes

by The_Lady_Crane



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Super Smash Brothers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Childhood Sweethearts, Explicit Sexual Content, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Lemon, M/M, Male Slash, Short, Smut, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 01:38:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17132588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_Crane/pseuds/The_Lady_Crane
Summary: After a long wait, Ike and Marth consummate their union under the full moon.





	Until the Right Time Comes

**Author's Note:**

> (Gasp) No Meta Knight in this story! I know! :o No, I haven't suddenly gained my marbles back. I just felt like doing some Ike/Marth sweet smut. Takes place in kind of an AU, since Ike and Marth obviously don't exist in the same timeline/place in the FE canon and Ike was never Marth's bodyguard. But in my head they do, and he is, and so this exists.

They have waited for years, and they can’t bear to wait any longer. As soon as the door closes behind Marth, he’s shoved into it and feels his bodyguard’s hard body cover him. “Nnh…” The prince can’t keep himself from trembling. He wraps his arms around Ike’s shoulders, clutching the red cape as Ike latches onto his neck. Rough hands find their way under his shirt, and Marth’s knees give out. Ike’s strong arms catch the prince, and he carries the smaller man to the bed.

_“I- Ike!” His voice cracks as Ike suddenly picks him up. He clings to the taller boy’s shirt, his skinny legs flailing like a panicked bird’s. “What is the meaning of this?”_

_“I have orders to bring you to your father, Your Highness.” The last two words are spoken in an exaggerated way, and the prince bristles._

_“I doubt he told you to carry me there!”_

_“He didn’t, actually. I just took a notion.”_

_“Ugh…” Marth rests against the broad chest, trying to fight back the blush spreading across his face._

“Your face is red,” Ike pants as he pushes Marth onto the bed. “It kinda suits you.”

“Liar,” Marth’s laugh is low and breathy, and it’s quickly cut off by Ike’s lips. He whimpers, trembling all over, feeling like a child again as Ike takes complete control of the situation. When the kiss is broken, Marth can hardly see straight. His legs are already open, inviting Ike to settle between them.

Ike kisses along Marth’s jawline, down his neck, across his chest, pulling his clothing aside all the while. He’s impatient, though, and fabric tears as it’s pulled too far. Marth’s small noise of indignation is ignored. Ike all but rips the rest of his clothing off, and then struggles with his own armor. His own clumsiness is alarming. His fingers fumble over the buckles, and he realizes he’s trembling almost as much as the prince. He needs to touch skin soon, or he feels he’ll suffocate. With a cry of frustration, he finally manages to pull his equipment off. It lands on the floor with a heavy clanking, and his underclothes flutter atop the pile.

_The prince looks up at Ike, and he suddenly wishes he was a bit bolder. His guard’s body is scarred from his days as a mercenary, but it only accentuates his rugged masculinity. Marth’s face heats up as he takes in the sight of his bodyguard preparing to bathe. The prince needs a soak, as well, but he would be lying if he said that was the only reason he came here at this time._

_“Staring is rude,” Ike says without looking at the boy. Marth blushes harder and forces his gaze away from the man. It’s a struggle to keep looking away, and when he hears Ike enter the water, he almost loses his composure. In the shower stalls, the temptation to look wasn’t such a problem. Here in the bath, though… “Aren’t you getting in?”_

_He can feel Ike’s eyes on him as he slips into the tub beside him. He looks at him again, and his gaze lingers once more on hardened muscle. He licks his lower lip, imagining what it would be like to trace that collar bone with his fingers, to press his lips to the provocative indent between the guard’s pectoral muscles._

Marth can’t get enough of Ike’s chest. He has long fantasized about kissing and licking, and he indulges himself now. Only when slick fingers probe his entrance does he falter, whimpering helplessly. He presses against Ike’s chest once more, breathing in the scent of sweat and adrenaline. There is no preamble here. He’s prepared only briefly, with just a moment of stretching with two fingers.

They have both run out of patience. Marth’s breath halts as Ike locks gazes with him and enters, pushing harder and harder until he can slide inside. A choked cry is muffled as Marth nuzzles Ike’s shoulder. It’s so much better than he imagined it, and he already needs more. He spreads his legs wider, submitting fully, and Ike proceeds to take what is being offered without hesitation. Warmth enters him, heating his insides, racing up his spine, radiating out from the point where their bodies are joined.

_Ike’s arms are warm. Marth sighs, allowing himself to relax into them and pushing his frozen nose against the base of Ike’s throat. “Hold on…” The vibration in Ike’s chest makes Marth shiver. The servants rushing to see what’s wrong are only a bother, and he wishes they would go away and leave him and Ike alone._

_Fortunately, the fourteen-year-old guard keeps his hold on the boy. Marth is set down only when they reach the lounge, where his wet clothes are removed and he’s covered with several layers of blankets. “Stupid kid,” Ike says gruffly, his expression fierce but his eyes betraying slight fear. “Even a complete idiot like you should know that the ice is too thin for skating this time of year.”_

_“Y- you…” Marth tries to say that Ike is the fool, because he’s skated there plenty of times; but all he really wants is to press close to Ike again._

_“Shall we call the doctor?” a servant asks, and Ike instructs them to do so. Then he sits on the couch next to Marth._

_The boy reaches out, his hands beginning to shake. “I- I- Ike…”_

_Ike scowls, but he leans over Marth and holds him close._

“Ike!” Marth doesn’t even try to hold back his cries anymore. They tumble from him in halting gasps, breathy moans, desperate pleas for more. Ike is only vaguely aware that he’s growling as he plows the prince’s tight little passage. Marth grips Ike’s upper arms, wraps his legs around his waist, and pulls him in as deeply as he can go. “AH! Nnng! I- Ike!”

Ike has never heard his name spoken with such longing. It’s intoxicating. He wants to hear more, and he starts up a brutal pace of thrusts that have Marth screaming his name. “Ah- Marth…! Marth!” It goes both ways. In the confusing mess of sensations that the world has become, Ike is no longer consciously aware of his words or his actions.

Heat builds up, threatens to shatter them both, but is finally released as Ike lets out a shout. Marth can’t even cry out. He chokes on his own voice, his head thrown back as he claws at the arms holding him. The world doesn’t make sense anymore. There is no sight, no sound. There is only the roiling heat firing from Ike to Marth and back again, echoing between them with the frantic beating of their hearts.

_Ike’s stare makes his heartbeat race, and the eight-year-old prince doesn’t know why. Marth stares back defiantly, determined not to blink, set on solving this puzzle. “What are you looking at?” Ike’s tone demands an answer, and a good one, at that. The mercenary’s son isn’t about to kowtow to the brat just because he’s a prince._

_Marth feels his face heat up, but still he won’t look away. They hold each other’s gazes for a long time, Ike with steely resolve and Marth with dogged determination. Ike’s eyes are like ice. He looks so much older than his ten years._

_“What. Are. You. Looking. At?” Ike asks again, irritated._

_Marth tilts his head slightly. “You,” he says simply._

“You…” Marth pants. They’re chest-to-chest now, Ike is sliding out of him, and the prince slowly begins to come back to Earth. Ike eases himself onto Marth, closing his eyes as Marth touches their foreheads together. They have both waited too long for this, and now that their union is consummated they find themselves unable to pull apart.

“Ike… I…”

Ike just kisses him. He knows, and he feels the same way. They don’t need words now. He grips the prince’s hand, brings it to his lips. Marth pulls Ike down so that they’re side by side. Their fingers intertwine, and Marth brings his other hand around to rest on Ike’s chest.

“You finally fulfilled your promise,” Marth sighs.

“Hm? What promise?”

“You promised to hold my hand… during the moon viewing party.”

Ike remains silent, but his hand grips Marth’s tightly. So many years given to the war that ravaged the land. There is so much to make up for. The slim fingers wrapped around his flex, squeezing him, and he looks over. Blue eyes are shining in the moonlight filtering in through the window. Ike feels a swelling in his chest, and he can no longer bear to look into those eyes. He rolls over and traps Marth’s lips with his own.

_Marth wants to kiss him. He wants to press his lips to the guard’s, wants to take that chiseled face between his palms the way he’s seen it done in plays. He wonders how it will be when he can finally realize his desire. Will they close their eyes? Will their noses bump into each other? Will he bend his knee and bring his foot up behind him, the way heroines in romance novels do?_

_He’s fairly certain that he could ask Ike to kiss him, and his bodyguard would do it. When Ike asks what he wants for his birthday, though, Marth decides against it. Now isn’t the time for kissing. Not yet. Instead, the fifteen-year-old prince says, “Will you… Will you hold my hand?”_

_Ike gives him an incredulous look, and seems to be close to rolling his eyes. But he takes Marth’s hand in his own, cupping their palms together at first and then lacing their fingers. Marth is taken aback by how wonderful it feels. Warmth spreads from Ike’s hand. Marth feels his entire body heating up. He blushes, and can’t stop the smile from forming on his face. He decides that in lieu of a kiss, hand-holding is a more than acceptable substitute._

_“Is it everything you wanted it to be?” Ike asks with a bit of a sarcastic tone to his voice._

_Marth looks into his eyes earnestly. “Yes,” he says, beaming. “Ike, please… Promise that you’ll do this for every special occasion from now on.”_

_Until the right time comes, Marth can hold off on kissing for now._


End file.
